


One For Forever

by luninosity



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Academia, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy, Love, M/M, Sex, Sexual Content, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Charles is away for a conference, and missing Erik. Long-distance telepathic sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One For Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I rarely write Charles p.o.v., so, a bit of an experiment? Title from the Foo Fighters’ “Free Me”: _free me right now/ you take me away/ take it from me…_

Charles will never admit it, not out loud, but he hates being away.  
  
He loves conferences, he really does, the more academic the better, the feeling of being surrounded by other people with a shared vocabulary of scientific terminology, DNA and genetic manipulation and chromosome markers, audiences who get excited about his work and their own work and the sheer gleefulness of the work of discovery, for its own sake.  
  
But he misses being at home. And he misses Erik. Erik doesn't have the numerous advanced degrees that the roomful of attendees who'd been asking him questions, earlier, collectively possess. But Erik is brilliant and intuitive and has a knack for understanding how things _fit_ , capable of asking just the right question at the right moment, pushing Charles's research into avenues he'd not have thought of on his own.  
  
Also, the broad expanse of hotel bed, at night, just isn't the same. It tries to be friendly—the mattress is wonderfully fluffy and the pillows seem to be trying to keep him company by means of sheer numbers—but they aren’t his pillows, and the hotel isn’t home.  
  
He stretches out across the too-happily accommodating mattress. Thinks, vaguely, how much he'd like to be back again. Erik is hundreds of miles away and Charles does love conferences and intellectual excitement but it's been three days and the excitement is worn out now, settling under his skin like the slow fizzling out of a once-lit fuse.  
  
He's been on his feet all day. He wants a backrub. Or maybe he just wants Erik's hands on him.  
  
It's later where Erik is, back home. Practically the middle of the night, or more accurately terribly early in the morning. Erik's probably sleeping.  
  
But even as he contemplates that image, he catches the tail end of a distant whisper, Erik thinking about him, missing him, grumbling—not seriously—about something unspecified that the children have done to the mansion grounds, and wishing for Charles to just _be there_ , and he usually can't hear that far without concentrating ferociously hard, but the loneliness and wistfulness and the love reach out from both sides and meet in the middle and catch them both there in the night like an unexpected happy ending.  
  
 _Erik_ , he says. And it's too distant to make the words hold their shape, not for long, but he can feel the rush of warmth, and surprise, and voiceless want, in return.  
  
Want, he thinks, amused; and they must both be thinking the same thing because the affection shifts and pools, abruptly, into desire.  
  
All right, then.  
  
He senses Erik's hand moving, beneath the sheets, where he's sprawled out across their bed, the only one in it, but not alone, not anymore. When Erik actually sleeps, he's self-contained, very still, as if even then afraid that any extra motion or sound might give some valuable piece of himself away. But in these moments, these most intimate moments, Erik lets himself go. Lets himself relax. Takes up the whole damn bed and makes Charles wrap himself around that lean body to hold on, and Charles never minds in the least.  
  
He slips into Erik's mind. Nudges the receptors involving that hand. Asks, wordlessly for control; Erik lets him take over, at the request, because it is a request. Charles grins. Shows Erik, at the same time, what his own hands are doing. Hears the gasp, even across all the distance.  
  
When they come, in a blur of white heat like silent electric thunderstorms, he makes certain it's together. Because they're always together. Even when they're apart, they're together.  
  
Always, he thinks one more time, mostly an acknowledgement for himself, and kisses Erik good night, as the sleepy euphoria curls up around them both and tugs them into velvet tiredness. And, though he could've sworn, again, that the distance is too great for words to be easy, and that by now they're both too exhausted and content to form said words anyway, he does hear a word. He hears Erik say _yes_.


End file.
